Help
by shallowz
Summary: Missing scene from Year's End.


Disclaimer: Not ours, just for fun._  
_

_~#~#~_

_Help_

Oliver didn't ask for help. Coerced, offered, approached, but ask? Diggle fought the sinking in his gut for the nth time since receiving Oliver's distress call.

There. He turned into the alley, braking to a stop. Peering up through the windshield, he watched the helicopter's searchlights make a sweep. The signal brought him there, but he couldn't risk driving any further. Yanking the duffle out of the trunk, tangling his fingers in his haste, Diggle jogged toward where the back trace indicated.

Heart keeping time with the thumping of the helicopter blades, Diggle kept to the warehouse walls, freezing to a stop anytime the searchlights made another pass.

Taking too much time.

Relief as much as need had him dropping to his knees when Diggle found him a few minutes later. The broken arrow shafts jutting out of Oliver's back, the harsh breathing loud even with the helicopter hovering overhead set him back on his heels.

"Damn, Oliver."

Snatching up the radio from Oliver's loose hand, he tucked it in his own pocket while peering down to what he could see of Oliver's face. How he remained undiscovered was a miracle Diggle would revisit later.

_Help_

Where to start?

"Oliver. Can you hear me?"

Oliver's head rolled, eyes slitting open. The 'Digg' came out more of a breath than an actual word, but it was enough.

"Yeah, I'm here."

A gloved hand shot out to grip his jacket, and the choked, "Get them out." Had Diggle's eyes going to the broken shafts.

"Oliver - "

"Can't know." Oliver passing out was as much a blessing as curse at this point. Taking Oliver by the wrist he laid his limp arm down and slid his own hand down Oliver's torso, feeling the unpleasant shift of broken ribs.

No self-treatment this time. Diggle knew buddy care. Knew what to do with a bullet wound. Knew he was out of his depth even as he dug the scissors out of the first aid kit.

The blood soaked hooded jacket went first, clean side up to be placed under Oliver's head. Diggle didn't want to know how the shafts were broken, but suspected Oliver had done the deed himself.

_Get them out._

Knowing Oliver's mindset, regretting the necessity, Diggle pulled the shafts out, damaging more muscle and flesh on purpose. Creating wounds that wouldn't conflict with whatever story he'd invent to explain Oliver's condition.

A strangled moan.

_Help_

Searchlights again and voices too close. Not much time. Nor did Oliver have much. Judging from his labored breathing, Diggle worried a broken rib had damaged a lung.

Everything in him screamed to call a medic. The fear he could do irreparable damage to Oliver in moving him conflicted with Oliver's need for secrecy. Not the first time common sense and Oliver's plans collided.

Nor the last.

Placing gauze pads over the wounds, Diggle wrapped a gauze strip around twice to hold them in place and slow the bleeding.

Another pass of lights overhead. Couldn't wait any longer. Shoving any remaining evidence, including the arrows, into the duffle, Diggle tossed the strap over his shoulder, then hefted Oliver into his arms grimacing more at the muffled scream, than the solid weight he held.

Keeping to the dark shadows of the warehouses, he started back to the car, Oliver's head lolling against his shoulder.

With relief, Diggles man-handled Oliver into the blanket-covered backseat. Close quarters made it awkward, but Diggs took out the scissors once again, cutting Oliver's all too recognizable green leather pants off. Done, he cocooned Oliver in the blanket, and manipulated his legs in order to close the car door.

After that, avoid the searching helicopter and race toward the hospital.

In the crazy way time moved, it took too long and no time at all. Hardest part and most surprising part – letting the gurney wheeling Oliver away go without him. Instead he answered the rapid-fire questions of the nurse, handed over Oliver's insurance card and asked that their arrival remain as private as possible. Explained his status as Mr. Queen's bodyguard and power of attorney.

Oliver was nothing if not thorough.

After that, waiting and staring at the floor, not calling the Queens. Not yet. Again, the weird time shift. The ER doctor stood in front of him, reciting Oliver's injuries, but it was the 'he'll be fine' that finally allowed him to draw a full breath.

Afghanistan was easier.

Thanking the doctor, he pulled out his cell and called the Queens, regretting that it wasn't a better Christmas for all of them.

~#~#~

Diggle remained.

Remained while Oliver beat himself up in what he regarded as his failure. Sat in that chair, gave his opinion on Oliver's failure.

Remained sitting until Oliver started to waver on his feet. You couldn't push Oliver. He did plenty of that himself - to the point of collapse. Then, Diggle could step in.

Because Oliver didn't ask for help.


End file.
